Last One In
by next- world domination
Summary: Survivor, Harry Potter style: 14 lucky contestants will be locked into the Room of Requirement for 2 weeks. Who will be the last one remaining, winning 1,000,000 galleons? The rules are simple…
1. Dumbledore's Quite Mad

Summary: 14 lucky contestants will be locked into the Room of Requirement for 2 weeks. Who will be the last one in, winning 1,000,000 galleons? The rules are simple…

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Harry Potter © Jo Rowling. This story will likely make little sense, so please don't complain about the lack of realism. I am fully aware of it.

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore folded a last sheet of parchment and slid it into an envelope. Yawning, he stood up and took the candle from his desk, heading out to the Owlery.

He managed to wake 14 owls and tie letters to each of their legs. The owls shuffled out and soared out into the sky.

Dumbledore chuckled to himself. "Well," he said, watching the owls become 13 tiny pinpricks (one of them doubled back and headed for the North Tower). "This should be very interesting. Yes, interesting indeed."

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

Two house elves stood a little behind him, unseen. One whispered to the other, "Is he talking to himself again? I thought he was on medication for that."

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

Miles away, Harry Potter woke with a start as an owl pecked loudly at his window. He opened it and the owl flew to Hedwig's perch.

Harry removed the letter from its leg. He recognized the crest as Hogwarts and ripped it open curiously.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Congratulations! You have been selected to participate in a very special contest. You and 13 other contestants will be locked in the Room of Requirement for exactly two weeks. The room will be charmed to provide no more then a bathroom and three meals a day for each person. The last one remaining will win a 1,000,000-Galleon prize!_

_The rules are as follows:_

_No murder. Breaking this rule will result in a disqualification._

Harry stared in disbelief.

_You will be disqualified if you leave the room._

_Do not inflict bodily harm upon anyone. You will receive a warning for the first time you break this rule. You will be disqualified the second time this rule is broken._

_Arrive at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by 12:00 noon on August 15th. The contest will begin at 6:00 PM. We hope to see you there! If you are unable to attend, please notify us by August 10th. _

_Good luck, _

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

Ron Weasley sat at his kitchen table, shoveling eggs down his throat at an alarming rate.

Suddenly a tawny owl soared in through the open window, dropping a letter on his head and causing him to choke.

He ripped open the letter and skimmed over it.

"What the bloody hell is this?"

"Hey, Ron!"

Ginny ran down the stairs, waving an identical letter in his face. "Oh, you got one too!"

Suddenly the fireplace burst into emerald flames as Fred's head emerged over the logs. "Oy, did you two get any of those weird letters about some sort of contest?"

Ginny nodded.

"Yeah, so did George and I a little while ago. Are you going?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. How do you even know these are real?"

"They're from _Dumbledore_. Who would go to planning such an elaborate prank anyway?" Fred pointed out sensibly.

"I guess; if Mum will let us. I've gotta owl Hermione, see if she got one…" Ginny disappeared.

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

Hermione was already up and studying from her practice NEWT textbook when she got her letter.

"_No murder_? Is this contest _legal_?"

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

Lucius Malfoy (who had paid off the Ministry to keep himself from being jailed after that pesky little Death Eater incident) sat at the head of a long, ornately carved table, sipping a cup of coffee. Draco sat at the opposite end, reading a copy of _The Miniature Death Eater's Guide_ by Ima Masterovillainy.

A small, cowering house elf walked up to Lucius. A large barn owl sat upon her head.

Lucius gave her the Malfoy Sneer™ and snatched up the letter, frowning. "Well, really! How preposterous!"

Draco looked up from page 192, _Perfecting Your Evil Sneer. _"What's so preposterous?"

Lucius thrust the letter at his son. "Look at this."

Draco's eyes lit up. Money symbols practically glowed in them. "But look, Father! The prize is _one million_ Galleons!

"It can't be real."

"It's from Dumbledore."

"Names can be forged. Besides, who wants to enter a contest of that Mudblood loving crackpot's anyway?"

"Let's just try it."

"Fine. You'll see who was right." Lucius said haughtily.

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

Severus Snape was lying on a sandy white beach in Jamaica. Well, technically he was lying on a fluffy beach towel on a sandy white beach in Jamaica. The water was clear and turquoise, with little foamy white crests. A gull called from overhead and the sun was bright and shining golden against the sand. In one pallid, skinny hand he clutched a martini topped with a small pink umbrella.

It was the very picture of paradise, spoiled only by the owl that swooped in and dropped an envelope on his head. Snape cursed, then sat up and split the envelope open.

When he finished reading it, his mouth was hanging completely open. "What's wrong with Dumbledore? I'd bet my martini it's that damn medication; I warned Madam Pomfrey. He's completely doped up on it…"

Muttering, Snape stood up and wrapped himself in his towel and trudged off the beach, flip-flops sinking into the sand as he walked. Dumbledore had a lot of explaining to do.

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

Lord Voldemort sat in his mansion, feeling rather bored- nearly all his Death Eaters were on vacation. He may have been an evil megalomaniac, but he was not unreasonable. Death Eaters did get part of the summer off.

Wormtail appeared at his door. "M-my Lord, you have mail."

Voldemort waved him in and Wormtail dropped several parcels on his desk before skittering out. Voldemort rolled his eyes. Minions- they were so timid sometimes.

He looked over the mail quickly- the Daily Prophet, a postcard from Bellatrix and Rodolphus (they were in France), a bill for the muggle torturing device he had bought yesterday…

"Ooh! My _Dark Lord_ magazine arrived." He skimmed it eagerly.

Finally Voldemort came upon the envelope baring a Hogwarts crest. His lip curled in disgust and consternation. "How did they find my new address?"

He read it and laughed, tossing it into his wastebasket.

Wormtail emerged at the doorway again, looking confused. "Master, an owl just pecked me in the forehead-" and Voldemort saw there was indeed a nasty looking dent above his right eyebrow "-it was holding this letter."

Voldemort took it. The letter was from Hogwarts and had only the words _THIS IS NOT A JOKE_ written upon it.

He frowned. "I'll have to pay Dumbledore a visit," he decided, drumming his long white fingers on the desk impatiently.

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

The Ministry of Magic was extremely busy. Owls were flying in every second, including quite a few Howlers. Explosions occurred every other second.

Dolores Umbridge sat in her office with the door tightly closed. She was drinking tea with cream and sugar- despite that it had been months since her ordeal with the centaurs, drinking her tea was almost a form of therapy. It calmed her greatly (it helped that she'd had a bit of Prozac with- sometimes Muggles did come up with the best inventions).

A letter sat on her desk, one that she had been almost afraid to open because of the Hogwarts crest on it.

Her hands shook slightly as she opened the envelope and read it. Umbridge's brow furrowed and her eyes popped. She quickly stood and waddled out the door, ducking a random explosion as she headed for the Minister's office.

"Cornelius!" she shook the letter at him angrily upon bursting in the door. "What is this nonsense?"

Fudge held an identical letter. "I have absolutely no idea," he blustered. He was steadily turning an angry puce. "I must have a word with Dumbledore about this. He's gone absolutely mad this time, he has."

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

A little while away, at the headquarters of the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter sat, sucking on her quill thoughtfully. Yes, she had kept to that silly Muggleborn girl's deal and not written anything besides that one article for a year. But now that Rita had her job back, she didn't really give a damn. Who was to stop her from writing all the nasty prying stories she could dig up?

An owl interrupted her musing: it dropped a letter on her head. Rita slit it open with her long scarlet nails and frowned. What was this all about?

She pondered it for a moment. If the letter were real, it would be an excellent opportunity to get the scoop on the sort of things the public was dying to know. The thought was enough to put a feral gleam in her eyes. That was that, then.

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

The North Tower was a very quiet place, especially during the summer. Hardly anyone was at Hogwarts, just the way Sybill Trelawney liked it. More time to think up new prophecies and work on her acting skills- there was no way she'd be able to keep her job if she didn't. Trelawney was quite aware of what a fraud she was.

"I see… something dark and foreboding in your future. No, I see…something dark… and foreboding in the near _future_, my child. Yes, that's good."

Then Sibyll turned to practice gazing in a crystal ball. She stared into the depths of one.

An owl stared back.

She almost shrieked, but held it in long enough to accept the letter it handed her. Sibyl opened the envelope and read the letter in confusion. _Well, why didn't he just walk up to the North Tower and give it to me? It's really not that far away._

JULY16-JULY16-JULY16 

Well, how was it? Hopefully not as bad as I thought.

So, is that little button in the corner purple or blue, anyway? Oh well. It calls to you… click on it… Go on. REVIEW! I'll give you Snape's martini if you do.


	2. Arrivals and Insults

Summary: 14 lucky contestants will be locked into the Room of Requirement for 2 weeks. Who will be the last one remaining, winning 1,000,000 galleons? The rules are simple…

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Harry Potter © J. K. Rowling. Remember, this is a parody.

Author's Notes:

Half-Blood Prince: I don't care what you guys say. No matter how cruel, twisted and bitter Snape is, HE IS NOT EVIL.

For the above reason, this will be my border:

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A little of Snape's martini to:

Notacrumpeteater: I suppose you can have rum if you'd REALLY rather have it. I can only spare a little of my secret stash for you…

Bubbles: since I know who you are I'm going to ignore that comment.

Supremekai-Inuyasha: Thanks; sorry I didn't post sooner.

Ellen Liu: Thanks very much! Sorry I was so slow on the update.

Excuse me Mr. Mister: Thank yooooooooouu. :)

Kasa: Thanks! I've always thought of it as blue myself, but everyone insists it's purple.

Adrianna Ashke: Thanks! We'll see about Snape… maybe not yet though…

Rally Gal: Thank you! I'm not quite sure what'll happen myself.

Joe potts: Thanks! Sorry about the slow update.

ONTO THE STORY:

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Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, the Malfoy twosome, Snape, Voldemort, Umbridge, Fudge, and Rita Skeeter all arrived at Hogwarts around the same time. Sibyll Trelawney appeared from the North Tower, claiming to have foretold the arrival of these visitors. Voldemort had disguised his voice and was cloaked and hooded so no one could tell who he was. As a result, everyone referred to him as "the funny tall man in a cloak" for the first few hours.

They learned that this contest was decidedly true; although for a while Dumbledore insisted he had done no such thing as send out the letters (alas, poor memory was another result of the drugs). And once Snape questioned this, he nervously denied having taken an overdosage of medication.

(Behind him, Dobby shook his head violently and mouthed "He lies!")

Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys were revolted to see Lucius and Draco Malfoy. Ultimately, they stayed only because Dumbledore assured them that the contest could prove to be quite dangerous and they were hoping the Malfoys might be injured, or even better, killed.

Draco took the opportunity to practice his Malfoy Sneer™ (which Lucius had said was lacking in true disgust).

"An improvement, but anyone could muster up such a look after seeing _them_." Lucius informed him. Draco pouted.

Umbridge and Fudge declared this to be "Simply ridiculous!" not two hours into their arrival and took their leave before the contest had even begun. Truthfully, the rest were all rather happy to see them gone. Harry had gone a funny puce color quite reminiscent of Uncle Vernon upon seeing Umbridge.

Two down, eleven to go.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly and crossed them off a list.

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Finally, after many tears and much begging; Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George were given permission to stay by Mr. Weasley who had accompanied them to Hogwarts. Trelawney and Snape rolled their eyes and agreed to remain in the contest (but only to torment poor Harry). Draco convinced his father that this was an excellent way of winning gold and so they stayed too.

Ron snorted unbecomingly at this.

"Just because we're as rich as Croesus doesn't mean we wouldn't appreciate an easily earned Galleon." Draco snapped.

"Tell me, Weasley, haven't you updated that pigsty house of yours into something a little bit… classier yet?" Lucius inquired spitefully of Arthur.

_A classic Malfoy dig_, noted Harry. _Utterly unoriginal, yet effective._

Arthur had the dignity to ignore his comment, but everyone else watched in fascination as his ears turned the color of an overripe strawberry.

'The funny tall man in a cloak' rolled his scarlet slitted eyes (though nobody could see the motion). Amateur. Surely Lucius didn't consider this feeble taunting up to Death Eater standards?

Voldemort, alias the funny tall man in a cloak, paused and reflected for a moment on his last Death Eater's Workshop.

_Next month I'd better cover 'The Proper Taunting of Blood Traitors'. This is downright shameful. _

"I sense bad feeling in the room," Trelawney announced. Everyone ignored her.

Trelawney's eyes filled with tears. _The Inner Eye is so underappreciated…_ She glanced around hastily, pulled out a bottle of sherry, and downed half of it with a hiccup.

Snape produced a box of popcorn and a chair from nowhere with his wand; then sat back to watch the drama.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Weasley clan glared and cracked their knuckles threateningly (the latter being Ron, of course).

"No, Ron- don't-" Hermione whispered urgently.

Rita Skeeter (who had been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time) finally gave into temptations and took a familiar-looking green quill out of her tacky-looking purse. "Hmm… _'Accused Death Eater Is Attacked By Freckled Brute"… _I rather like that," she said nastily.

Suddenly, Dumbledore swept into the room, emerald-green robes swirling over his pointed boots. "I assume we're all getting along?" He beamed benignly.

The room was silent except for the loud munching of Snape, who was currently working his way through his box of popcorn.

"Good, good. It's 5:30, shall I introduce you to your living quarters now?"

"Of course," Rita spoke up, smiling toothily. "Maybe I could have a word with you about doing a series of articles on this, ah… contest?"

"Certainly, once it's over. You are, after all, a contestant. Remind me about that in two weeks."

Rita looked as though she'd swallowed a lemon.

Hiding his or her grins, everyone followed Dumbledore from the Great Hall.

SNAPE-IS-NOT-EVIL-SNAPE-IS-NOT-EVIL 

A/N: There you go. From now on, the chapters are going to be about this long, maybe a little longer (This is 743 words; I'm aiming for at least 1,000- not counting Author's Notes and all that, of course.) And I swear, chapters are coming more often from now on. I edited Chapter 1 a little (just typos and stuff) so check that out if you'd like.

Reviews are greatly appreciated. Enjoy your martinis (and the rum), everyone.


	3. And It Begins

I decided to get rid of one of the rules of the contest: I mean, it wouldn't be nearly as fun if there was to be no magic, right?

And thanks for the reviews, guys.

Anyhow, on with the story:

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Draco stuck his nose up in the air in an aristocratic fashion: this meant tilting his head up so high that if it had been raining, he would surely have drowned. He strode along the halls arrogantly, shoving Weasley aside as he went.

Unfortunately, Draco lacked the foresight to realize that this aristocratic fashion of tilting one's head up kept him seeing straight in front of him, which in turn led him to walk face-on into one of the stone walls.

A small price to pay for the satisfaction of seeing Ron's outraged face, however (he had failed to notice that Draco had received his comeuppance in the form of a bloody nose). "Don't push me, you- you ferret," Ron finished lamely.

Draco giggled and wiped a fleck of red from his otherwise immaculately white shirt.

Snape looked at him, slightly disturbed. Who would've thought that so high a noise could've possibly come from a male?

Then again, Draco _was_ rather feminine. Indeed, although at first glance he seemed to be a miniature copy of his father at closer scrutiny his resemblance to the unmistakably female Narcissa was positively striking.

Lucius _was_ a bit of a girly man, though. It was all very confusing.

Snape tried hard to take his mind off this train of thought, making an effort to concentrate on the first other thing he thought of instead.

The only other thing that came to mind was his dear Bunny Foo-Foo.

It was a long, long story, but basically what had happened was that one time in seventh year, the insufferable James Potter decided he would send Snape a Christmas present. Severus woke up and found, to his surprise, a large package wrapped in sparkly paper and adorned with messily tied ribbon bows sitting at the foot of his bed. Curiosity won out over the portion of his brain that hinted that this was a prank present, and Severus eagerly opened it to find the fluffiest, most adorable pink bunny rabbit he had ever seen in his life. To his dismay, Severus quickly became attached to it. (On a side note, while Severus correctly deduced that Bunny Foo-Foo had indeed been a prank gift from James; he never learned that this came to be because of a sneak trip to Hogsmeade, 5 bottles of Firewhiskey, and an extremely drunk Sirius and James.)

And yet the two halves of his mind were in constant conflict. One side was saying: "It's all right to show your love for an inanimate object, really it is!" The slightly more evil side said: "Pshhht. What kind of sadistic Slytherin jerk would declare his affection of a stuffed bunny rabbit?"

It seemed as though the first half would surely win, for Snape had a secret. A horrible, embarrassing secret:

_He couldn't sleep at night without Bunny Foo-Foo._

Shameful, yes. He had been living in fear that someone would discover it for the past twenty years, and now that he had been entered in this ridiculous contest, it seemed as though someone finally would. Probably Potter, the nosy little twit.

Resolutely, Snape decided he would create curtains containing an Imperturbable Charm around his bed. And as no one in his or her right minds would ever dare to disturb Severus Snape in slumber anyway, there was no chance of anyone ever finding out about it!

And, well, if they did… rules were made to be broken, right?

"_Do not inflict bodily harm upon anyone…"_

As if any self-respecting Slytherin would obey such a rule anyway.

Suddenly feeling cheerful, Snape began to smirk. He was, after all, an evil Slytherin git.

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Harry watched suspiciously as Snape's pale face took on a twisted sort of grin. "What's he so happy about?" he whispered to Ron.

"I suspect he's finally found a way to poison you without being blamed, Potter," Draco said maliciously from behind them.

They both turned to glare at him. "Nobody asked you," Harry retorted.

Draco pretended to tremble. "Oh no! Weasley and Potter are glaring at me! I'm all aquiver with fear."

Harry ignored him, as they had reached the Room of Requirement.

"Now," Dumbledore instructed them, "Walk back and forth in front of this wall three times, and concentrate very hard on the contest."

Harry imagined they all looked quite mad, pacing in front of a wall in sync. Finally, a door popped out and Dumbledore pushed it open. "And this is the Room of Requirement."

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Eyebrows raised, everyone took in their surroundings. They were now standing in an extremely large room with plain walls decorated in tapestries and a wood floor with lots of rugs. There were a few couches and armchairs in the middle of the room, and a wizard chessboard sat on a table. One corner seemed to be a kitchen/dining area. In another corner, there were two doors. One of them, Dumbledore explained, was a bathroom, and the other was a bedroom.

Lucius stuck his head in the bedroom and pulled it back out, looking indignant. "We're supposed to sleep on the floor in _sleeping bags_? Are you out of your mind? I refuse! You can't make me."

"And there's no mirror," he added as an afterthought.

"You can conjure yourself up a bed, can't you?" Dumbledore said. "There's a mirror in the bathroom."

Lucius opened the bathroom door, went in, and stepped back out almost immediately, frowning. "_This_ does not qualify as a mirror." He held up a small looking-glass about the size of a book. "And where am I supposed to put all my hair care potions?" In one swift moment, he pulled out his wand, waved it in the air and muttered something. A very large suitcase spouted out of the end and fell to the floor. It opened with the impact, revealing a jumble of bottles and tubes labeled things like _Smooth 'n Shiny Hair Gel _and _Extra Strength Strawberry Scented Hairspray. _

Draco came closer and took a peek. "Hey, you stole my hair gel!"

Fred, George and Ginny snickered. Rita pulled out her pen again.

Dumbledore glanced at a clock on the wall. "The contest begins in approximately 6 seconds- 5- 4- 3- 2- 1! So long."

And with that he turned and left the room. A click was heard as Dumbledore locked the door, footsteps, and then nothing.

Ron finally broke the silence. "So… anyone want to play chess?"

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A/N: 1,154 words! Here you go and Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the US. On a side note, has anyone seen the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire? It's brilliant! Go watch it if you haven't gone already.

And don't forget to review.


	4. Malfoys Are Such Bullies

Summary: 14 lucky contestants will be locked into the Room of Requirement for 2 weeks. Who will be the last one remaining, winning 1,000,000 galleons? The rules are simple…

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Bunny Foo-Foo to SlytherinCreep.

A/N: Happy holidays to my beloved reviewers, this is my little gift to you: a full chapter just over 1,200 words. Muahahaha. Enjoy.

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"No, I don't want to play chess, you stupid ginger freak," Draco replied angrily. "I'm stuck in this room for the next two weeks to win a huge pile of cash, not to make friends with Gryffindors."

"That's right, Draco, just let it all out. Tell our readers how you feel," Rita said eagerly, pen poised over notepad.

"I helped you write nasty stories about Potter all fourth year, and now you're turning on me?" he asked incredulously. Unbelievable. Draco had always considered himself morally challenged, but this was just a whole new level of low.

The Gryffindors all glared at Draco for reminding them of this and they all began to talk at once. "Yes, and that was an appalling thing to do, you broke-" Hermione said, fuming.

"You made up half of the things-"

"-Completely unfounded lies, you disgusting-"

Harry, who had always been dreadful at concealing his emotions, let out a bellow, his fury apparently so great that it could not be expressed in words.

"30 points from Gryffindor!" Snape said with vindictive glee.

"_What? _But all we did was yell-"

"And another point off for each word you say in front of me," Snape added victoriously.

After a few seconds of trying to suppress an odd choking noise, Harry muttered something about 'blatant favoritism', but Snape had already stalked off to examine the "tiny" (according to Lucius) bathroom by then and never heard him.

"…Hey, the school year hasn't even star- SNAPE CAN'T TAKE POINTS OFF GRYFFINDOR!" Harry realized, outraged.

"Oh, go sulk around, you're good at that," Draco snapped.

To his immense surprise, Harry fell silent and did exactly that; brooding in an 'Oh-I'm-Such-A-Tragic-Hero' sort of way.

"Why are you so despicable?" Ron asked Draco exasperatedly.

Draco thought this was an excellent question. Why _was_ he so mean? He was a Slytherin, but why did he have so much fun being one? After some time, Draco replied pensively, "I'm not sure, exactly. I suppose it just makes me happy." He smiled nastily.

"For all you know, what you consider 'happiness' could be what normal people consider 'guilt'," Ron informed him.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You nit. What do you call that warm and bubbly feeling inside, then?"

Ron mulled this over for a bit. "It could be gas," he suggested.

Draco tried very hard to suppress a disgusted groan. His left eye twitched.

It was going to be a very long two weeks.

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Around 10:00 that night, everyone began to drift off for bed. This led to a long and very heated argument about who was going to have to sleep next to Snape.

"No way," Fred shrugged.

George agreed. "Harry, you do it, you're the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts,"

Snape interrupted at this point. "MY HAIR IS _NOT_ A FORM OF THE DARK ARTS!"

"_I'm_ not sleeping anywhere near him, his grease might touch me and ruin my perfectly ruffled and messy hair," Harry said furiously. He patted his hair self-consciously.

Everyone looked at him, disturbed.

"You make yourself look like- like _that-_ on purpose?" Draco asked weakly. "Why? To induce nausea?"

"I-I thought it looked good," Harry said uncertainly. "It's, uh, windswept and charming… right? My dad wore his hair like this too."

Lucius snorted in disbelief. "Potter, _this _looks good." He swung his head around, giving everyone a chance to witness his long, flowing, platinum blond locks form a halo around his head and settle back down in slow motion, as if in a shampoo commercial. Everyone clapped.

"_That" –_and he pointed at the porcupine-esque mess that sat upon Harry's head- "looks like a Pygmy Puff on crack."

Harry's eyes filled with tears.

"Well, that was uncalled for," Hermione said disapprovingly. "I mean, his hair isn't the neatest of sorts, but it's- it's got personality."

"I think it looks good," Ginny added.

Harry gave her a watery smile and thought to himself, _remember, Harry, you are a tragic hero. It is your job to be brave and suffer from the cruel comments of others._ _They don't understand you… they never will. Because you are the tragic hero._ "I am a tragic hero… I am a tragic hero…" he mumbled to himself.

Ron looked at him oddly. "Are you alright?"

"Who cares? Just decide where you're going to sleep," Lucius said brightly. Meanwhile, he had taken Dumbledore's advice and conjured himself a humongous, four-poster bed in the corner of the room, complete with green silk canopy and four green silk pillows, all embroidered with the Malfoy coat-of-arms. It was part of the room's magic that everyone was still able to fit even with the incredible largeness of Lucius Malfoy's ostentatious bed.

"It's just like the ones at home," Draco commented.

Trelawney sniffed dispassionately. "Yes, well, it doesn't matter where you put me. The Inner Eye knows where I will reside for the night."

"Okay! Everyone shut up!" Hermione snarled. "Malfoy… senior, you stay in your own little corner. Malfoy, you sleep next to him. You, tall guy in the cloak, go next to Malfoy junior. Professor Snape, go next to the guy in the cloak. Rita Skeeter, to the left of Snape. Then, Professor Trelawney, Fred, George, Ron, Harry, and Ginny, sleep in that order. And I'll stay next to Ginny." Her eyes glinted dangerously. "Go on, then, what are you waiting for?"

After much complaining, everyone finally got into his or her sleeping bags. And they fell asleep. Sort of.

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Voldemort had been relatively quiet this whole time, as to avoid suspicion. He had said a total of maybe fifty words so far, and they had all been things like "pass the salt, fool" (old habits die hard) or "knight to E3" (he'd helped Draco defeat Ron in wizard chess a few hours ago, much to Ron's chagrin. It had really been for the greater good because Weasley and Malfoy proceeded to have a shouting match about whether or not the latter had cheated).

But it was midnight, and sounds of nasal breathing (Snape) and loud snoring (Ron) filled the room. Voldemort was filled with questions: What was the real reason behind this contest? What was the significance of the fourteen selected contestants? How would he kill Harry Potter while stuck in a room with a dozen other people? And most importantly, what was up with this disturbingly feminine side of Lucius Malfoy and why had he never seen it before?

It was time for him to do some research.

Very, very quietly, Voldemort got out of his sleeping bag, careful not to wake the ferrety little brat to his right (who was mumbling something about the Mudbloods throwing punches and destroying hair products in his sleep). Then he tiptoed towards Lucius Malfoy's suitcase.

Dragging it into the bathroom, Voldemort flicked on the lights with his wand. He froze at the sight before him.

Then he screamed a very high, very shrill scream.

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A/N:So what did Voldemort see?

Thanks very much to the reviewers. (Adrianna Ashke, you're right, of course Harry/Ron won't find the bunny… As you said, it'd be too obvious. You'll find out soon though… And the people who commented on Draco/Lucius's femininity, well… yeah. I love to poke fun at the Malfoys.)

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	5. Ballet Slippers and Bananas

Summary: 14 lucky contestants will be locked into the Room of Requirement for 2 weeks. Who will be the last one remaining, winning 1,000,000 galleons? The rules are simple…

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters/places are copyrighted to JK Rowling, and I own absolutely nothing.

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"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKK!"

Lucius Malfoy glared daggers at him. "Shut the door before you wake someone up, you horrid cloaked little man. Quickly!"

Stunned, Voldemort did so, not even bothering to punish Malfoy for referring to him as a 'horrid cloaked little man'. After all, he _was_ still in disguise.

"B-b-but- w-what? _Why_? What have you done to yourself?" Voldemort blathered, now on the verge of hysteria.

For sitting on the side of the bathtub was none other than Mr. Lucius Malfoy, clothed in a pink terry bathrobe. His face was covered in a mysterious, gooey green substance, save for circles of skin around his eyes. Cucumber slices lay in abandon on the floor. His hair was rolled around many strange-looking plastic torture devices. _Curlers, _Voldemort noted dazedly.

"It's a facial," Lucius sniffed. He snatched the suitcase from Voldemort's fingers. "I'll take that."

"Lucius, look…"

Lucius took no notice. "I used to have four ponytails when I did ballet," he said wistfully. "Two on the top and two on the bottom. Wish I still knew how to make them." He pulled at a silky blonde curl hopefully.

Voldemort dimly recalled a time fifteen years ago, right before his own plans had been temporarily set back by that stupid prophecy, when Lucius had been terribly interested in taking up the Muggle sport of ballet.

-Flashback-

"_It's an art, really it is," Lucius continued. "You put the toe shoes on- see, they lace up with pink silk ribbons, wouldn't that look lovely with our Death Eater robes? –and then there's a fluffy pink tutu with bows and rosettes. Just think of the twirling, My Lord, and all the spins and leaps, it would be excellent for honing our reflexes in order to smash Muggle houses and send curses with grace and ease," he added helpfully. He proceeded to demonstrate this._

"_Lucius," the Dark Lord said flatly. "I am not going to make ballet classes an essential part of Death Eater training."_

-Flashback Over-

Of course, a couple months after that, he'd made his own school diary into a Horcrux and told Lucius to set up Plan B: 'The Opening Of the Chamber of Secrets' in case anything ever 'happened' to him. Apparently, this instruction had slipped Lucius's mind for some twelve years. Malfoy had probably forgotten it because he'd left for a ballet lesson immediately afterwards. Git.

Lucius fixed his eyes upon the tall figure before him worriedly. "Don't tell anyone, please. I'm not sure how Draco would react to this… I mean, I'm the father figure, I'm supposed to be the very essence of manliness."

"And I'll stop making fun of your cloak. Who are you, anyway?" Lucius added distractedly. Cloaked figures had become so run-of-the-mill in these 'dark times' that hardly anyone thought it unusual.

Voldemort shrugged. "It's not important, fool. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

He was the dark lord. He could afford to be generous.

Voldemort returned to his sleeping bag and tried vainly to put all the images he had just collected in the past five minutes out of mind. He fell asleep dreaming of himself leaping gracefully on a stage as he blasted Potter with hexes while the boy cried like a baby and the audience, comprised mainly of Malfoy and his family in curlers, cheered.

It wasn't a bad dream, in all consideration.

Actually, it was rather satisfying.

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Harry woke up feeling unexpectedly refreshed and definitely a little bit like someone was hedging in on his personal space. He blinked and noticed that sure enough, Ron's arm was tossed over his chest in a manner that implied implicit relations, of which there were definitely none.

_Definitely_ none.

Harry shuddered out loud and pushed him off, wondering, _why couldn't it have been Ginny? _

Harry amused himself for several minutes by picturing himself and Ginny dashing through a field of daisies… playing Quidditch one-on-one… dancing over Voldemort's grave… having a picnic in the countryside while little freckled, green-eyed PotterWeaslettes ran about…

A loud snore, courtesy of none other than the aforementioned girl's brother, broke him out of the reverie.

The snore was so loud that it woke Ginny, Hermione, George, Fred, and Snape (who had fashioned hospital-style curtains around his sleeping bag). They started to shout at a sleepy and disgruntled Ron. Which in turn woke up everyone else in the room.

After that, there was really no point in staying in bed any longer, so they all got up.

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"How are we supposed to cook?" Harry stared stupidly at the counter and oven. No one had eaten last night.

Rita sniffed. "Miss Perfect should know." Everyone turned to look at Hermione, who turned a bright shade of pink.

"I… well, I've never actually…"

Fred stared incredulously. "You've eaten the house elves' cooking all this time, you mean! Weren't you the one who said-"

"Oh, shut up, Fred, as if you've ever cooked," Ginny said impatiently. "It can't be that hard." She gazed at the oven door expectantly, as if willing it to pop cakes out of thin air.

Lucius inspected a banana from the fruit bowl on the table. "Is this wax?"

"Cool, muggle cooking devices." Draco peeled a few bananas and dropped them into a blender he had found without putting the lid on. He jabbed at a few buttons experimentally, and jumped back with a yell when it started spitting gooey banana chucks at everyone.

"Turn it off! Turn it off!"

"Malfoy, you sodding-"

"My hair!"

"I foresaw this, you should have heeded my warning!"

Finally, Snape had the good sense to stop the blender with a well-placed "_Stupefy!"_

Later, they made Draco clean up.

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Everyone sat listlessly in the living room. It was 3:00 pm, and they were all bored out of their minds.

Harry stared, glassy eyed, at a spot about two feet to the right of the cloaked person's head and yawned. "So," he said dully. "Who are you, anyway?"

To his shock and abject horror, the person in question gave a truly maniacal laugh and flung his robe off. Everyone screamed and ducked for cover.

"Ohmygod," breathed Ron, terrified. "A strip show? Please, don't… I mean, Ginny's only sixteen…"

Harry had squeezed his eyes shut and was chanting, "I am a tragic hero… I am a tragic hero…" under his breath. It seemed to have become a mantra of sorts.

"Really, this is ridiculous." Hermione was staring embarrassedly in the opposite direction. "Some of us are _underage, _you know."

Voldemort rolled his eyes impatiently. "I'm still _dressed_, you imbeciles."

The others looked up cautiously and saw that he was indeed fully dressed. They also noticed that he happened to be the Dark Lord.

Fred voiced what they were all thinking. "RUUNNNN!"

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A/N: I've upped the rating to T under the advice of a friend, since there are several drug references. Sorry for such a long wait, I assure you that it won't take so long next time. Thanks to:

XcrimsonxBlackxBloodx (why thank you, glad you enjoyed. Please don't hunt me down), Adrianna Ashke (thanks for the review, alas, parodies are my true love), ivan the terrable (Snape is _innocent_. Read HBP again, he is!), SlytherinCreep (description next time, I swear; I couldn't fit it in properly)


	6. Of Tequila and Betrayal

Summary: 14 lucky contestants will be locked into the Room of Requirement for 2 weeks. Who will be the last one remaining, winning 1,000,000 galleons? The rules are simple…

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters/places are copyrighted to JK Rowling, and I own absolutely nothing.

A/N: Thanks ohsoverymuch for the reviews! I'm sorry about my lack of updates, and also that I took down this chapter for editing.

On a side note, just so you guys know, there will be absolutely no Harry/Ron. (Slash fans: Booooo! You suck!) _Some of you _took it a little too seriously, pfft.

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Unfortunately, there was nowhere to run, seeing as they were locked up in a small room that seemed to be growing smaller by the second.

Everyone looked at Harry, Savior of the Wizarding World.

He seemed to be paralyzed with shock. "Ngghmmble," he said. Harry cleared his throat and tried again, in a horrified whisper. "What… what are you doing here? I'm warning you, Voldemort, I have a full arsenal of hexes and curses, plus a black belt. And we've got a plan, too," he lied.

The others straightened up and tried to look as if they did have a plan and were fully prepared for a Death Eater attack, which of course they didn't and they weren't. (Excepting Snape, who once again pulled out his popcorn, pointing with gleeful laughter.)

Hermione gasped. "Harry, the Malfoys- they've been in on it! They snuck him in!"

Her theory was disproved immediately. The Malfoys were completely and totally bewildered.

Lucius was shocked to the point of incoherency. "Guhhh- but- but, My Lord, what are you doing here?"

"Surprised to see me, are you?" Voldemort smiled cruelly. "You are a huge disappointment to me, Lucius." He poked the elder Malfoy in the chest with his wand.

Lucius hastily wiped away a small smear of eyeliner and reasoned desperately, since Malfoys didn't beg, "I know I have my- my tendencies, but I have always done what I could for you, My Lord, you know it is so…"

"Liar. I called your house when you were supposed to be on vacation and you answered, 'Hello, this is Jeffrey's Pizza Place' and hung up on me."

Lucius tried to hide his look of guilt. It was not effective.

Just then Dumbledore strolled in with a platter of tea and crumpets. "Hello, all, I see we are getting along quite nicely- oh, Tom, do put your wand down." Smiling amiably, he popped a mini scone into his mouth.

"_You!" _Voldemort gave a small howl of anguish and disbelief. "What is WRONG with you? Are you trying to torture me? Why did you put me in a room with these _psychos?"_

Harry considered that this was a bit ironic, coming from Voldemort, but seeing as Harry had essentially the same question on his mind, he didn't say a word.

Snape tried not to look surprised. "Dumbledore, you invited him?"

"Well, yes. But Lord Voldemort poked Mr. Malfoy in the chest with his wand, and I'm afraid it will have to be confiscated. This is your first warning, Tom."

"Do not call me-" Suddenly, Dumbledore flicked his own wand and Voldemort's flew up in the air, where Dumbledore caught it easily.

"That's not on at all!" Voldemort looked sort of small and not very intimidating without a long pointy stick to accent his 'Maniacal Dark Lord Coming Through, Get Out Of My Way' manner.

"That'll be all?" Dumbledore nodded pleasantly and stepped out of the room, slamming the door. The sound of a lock was heard.

Voldemort stood there, looking sort of stunned for a moment. Then he began to beat wildly at the door. "Let me OUT of here these people are INSANE I refuse to stay in here with _them_ for another THIRTEEN DAYS."

"Unbelievable," Draco said loudly, staring after him. "Really unbelievable." He gave his father a withering look where he sat, cowering on the floor. "And I used to _respect_ you."

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By nine o'clock that night, Voldemort seemed to have gotten over his fit, and Draco had mostly stopped teasing him about it. Wandless, Voldemort was hardly intimidating. And he stared at the wall in the way of a broken man that was most disturbing.

Everyone had gone back where they'd left off- staring off into distance. Nobody noticed when George quietly slipped out of the room, or when Fred followed.

They did, however, notice when the twins returned with their arms full of butterbeer and a bar on wheels.

"_Where did you get that?" _Ron asked, his eyes popping out of his head in a most unattractive fashion.

"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies." Grinning, Fred waved his wand, and the drinks started to pour themselves.

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Around midnight, Draco observed keenly that everyone was completely, totally smashed, with the exception of Hermione, who refused to drink anything the twins were handing out; and Trelawney, who had pretty much been like that all day and was now passed out on the floor.

Snape was currently sitting in the corner laughing vaguely with his martini and talking to Voldemort, who had taken the phrase "drowning one's sorrows in alcohol" way too literally. Watching it made Draco's head hurt.

But that might have just been the alcohol. Draco was trying to remember how many tequila shots he'd done when suddenly he heard a loud roar of appreciation coming from behind him.

"Gahhh!"

Twisting around, Draco was greeted by the horrible, _ghastly_ sight of Ron and Harry dancing on a small stage (when had that appeared? Maybe it was the alcohol.) to "You Charmed The Heart Right Out of Me". Much to his amusement, the Weasley twins were cheering them on, camera in hand while Hermione attempted to simultaneously coax the feeble-minded duo off their platform and scold the twins.

Gryffindors, for the most part, could not hold their drink, he noted with glee. Ginny appeared to be doing much the same thing, not that Potter seemed to be complaining much from his little stage. Of course, the idiot _was_ drunk, so maybe that was clouding his judgment. Draco, for one, was proud to say that freckly redheaded lightweights had never really been his type, tipsy or not.

Draco strolled over to the bar, currently manned by Rita Skeeter (who was also sort of swaying) and contemplated his choices. Hermione Granger accosted him halfway through his important decision- rum and a coke, or another margarita?

"Do not touch that, or I will cause you significant bodily harm," she informed him. "You have had enough tequila already, and your head is going to hurt tomorrow. Your dad is passed out over there," she added. Granger left, presumably to yell at Potter some more since he had now progressed to a mild state of undress and had been joined by Snape. It was burning Draco's retinas horribly.

"Thanks, Granger." Draco wondered why she had to be so damn _maternal _all the time, but stopped thinking about it long enough to cover his father with a conveniently placed sheet and roll him to the side of the room next to Trelawney where she lay snoring with her sherry.

The night was young.

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Harry stared at the ceiling and contemplated suicide, not for the first time. Nobody had told him that alcohol was going to be this _painful. _He still felt a little fuzzy, but his head was throbbing too. Kind of like little bunnies were running around in his head with sledgehammers, or something.

He could hear someone making retching noises on the other side of the room. That was going to be Ron. If there were any justice in the world at all, Ron wouldn't remember what Harry had been doing last night.

Unfortunately, Harry most definitely remembered what Ron had been doing, or most of it anyway, up until the part where he passed out in a muddled pile of drunken happiness. He recalled a fierce desire to banish the sight from his mind. But if this was any indication, the desire had not been satisfied.

"Thinking hurts," Harry said aloud.

"Ah, well, that does happen, if you're not used to doing it too often."

Harry nearly screamed, his heart pounding furiously. Draco Malfoy's upside-down, smugly sneering, _extremely unwelcome_ face appeared above him.

"I bet you don't remember anything about last night."

Harry's throat contracted horribly for a second and his mind was filled with images that would probably scar him forever. "Sorry, what?"

"Not like _that_, Potter, you big drama queen." He looked discomfited. "You passed out sometime around the part when Weasley started trying to give everyone lap dances."

"He's trying to drown his shame in the toilet," Malfoy continued brightly. _Brightly for a Malfoy_, Harry thought- darkly.

Harry blinked. "Why are you talking to me?" he asked slowly. The room was also bright, too, too bright; and Malfoy's voice was chipper enough to make Harry want to throw something at him. Not that it took a whole lot to get Harry to throw things at people.

"Because you're hungover and this seems to cause you pain. Moreover, I'm bored," Malfoy stated balefully. "Granger is off giving everyone hangover remedies, Snape is still talking to himself, my dad hasn't woken up, and the Dark Lord smells funny. I don't want to talk to him. He _scares_ me. Plus, the smallest Weasley is traumatized and refuses to speak to anyone."

A hangover remedy. No wonder Malfoy was in such a good mood; Harry clearly remembered him taking tequila shots with fervor.

"My head hurts. Do not attempt to contact me again," Harry warned Malfoy, and covered his unfortunate, spiky head with a pillow before falling into a pained sleep once more.

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When Harry opened his eyes again, it was already 3:00 pm. He got up and shuffled slowly over to the kitchen area, rubbing his head. Everybody looked sort of tired, but no longer hungover.

"Took you long enough," Hermione said bossily. "Everyone else got up _hours_ ago." Before Harry could respond, she jumped onto the table and practically shoved what Harry assumed was one of those remedies down his throat.

"What are y- guhhh!"

"It's good for you, you'll get over it." Sometimes, Harry really did not like Hermione. Actually, the remedy wasn't bad; it was just that the fact that Hermione seemed to be constantly forcing him to drink bizarre potions bothered him a little. He had definitely not forgotten the Polyjuice Potion.

As Harry choked the rest of the hot, peppermint-flavored stuff down, he noticedthe conspicuous absence of two faces around the table. "Where're Fred and George?"

Draco cheerfully piped in (the little bugger had been eavesdropping, damn his Slytherin soul), "Dumbledore made them leave after he heard about the liquor. And the dancing, not that I blame him."

"But who told him?" Harry was genuinely confused. While he could understand why Malfoy might not want the twins around, he did not seem to have any aversion to their alcohol and probably wouldn't have tattled. Snape or the older Malfoy wouldn't have cared either way, and Trelawney was way too drunk and fond of sherry to complain.

_Rita Skeeter._

Harry was filled even more of that intense dislike he was famous for, and vowed to get her back. _No one _was going to mess with a Gryffindor, especially not ones that obtained alcohol for The Boy Who Lived.

There was going to be hell to pay.

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A/N: Why, yes, I _am_ aware that I write shamefully short chapters. Plus, I use too many commas. Please, _please_ review!


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